


You'll Have to Give Him Back When the Season Begins

by colisahotnorthernmess



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Established Relationship, Kissing, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Teacher-Student Relationship, Teasing, Touching, Undressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 01:50:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15304764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colisahotnorthernmess/pseuds/colisahotnorthernmess
Summary: Gareth meets Harry in his hotel room after the defeat to Belgium in the 3rd place play-off of the World Cup 2018. The hotel room is beyond luxurious, the view of St. Petersburg is absolutely stunning, and yet the only thing beautiful enough to hold Southgate's attention is Harry Kane, who is waiting patiently for him, wearing nothing but his underwear.





	You'll Have to Give Him Back When the Season Begins

There was nothing but the silhouette of a tall figure standing by the window, peeking between the curtains and peering out onto the view, when Gareth entered the room. The man in question had only just closed the blinds, eager to keep their secret from prying eyes, even several storeys up. The door firmly shut behind him with a clicking noise which so _often_ seemed to mark the beginning of their trysts and, the dimmer switch, nearby, was rolled forward by a couple of notches. There was now a low level of light in the room. And there was _Harry_  - in nothing but a pair of white boxers with red detailing - a _patriot_ to the end.

The young player could be a bit of an enigma when it came to his own sex appeal - he was _painfully_ shy at times, but he was well aware of the appeal which came _with_ his shyness - and was _acutely_ aware of the effect it seemed to have on his mentor (it, actually, drove him _wild_ with desire). So, when Southgate began to approach him, the sound of his leather shoes shuffling against the carpet with every step, Kane acted rather coyly and didn't immediately turn around. Besides which, he couldn't quite hide in his face how _saddened_ he was by their defeat against Belgium earlier today, even if the pair _had_ already discussed it after the game.

"Hey..." a voice called out from behind him. "Who's _this_ sulking in the corner? Where's the Harry I know, _eh_?"

"I just keep running through the game in my mind and all the things I could and _should_ have done better," he sighed, looking out onto St. Petersburg through his window.

"Remember what I said, Harry. I haven't come here to discuss match tactics. Tactics are for the dressing room. We're in... well, we're in the _bedroom_ , aren't we?" he raised his eyebrows. "Now there's a good lad," he said, spinning him around by the shoulders to face him. "And _what_ happens in the bedroom?" he asked, so quietly that it was barely audible, even in a room where the only noise was the gentle hum of an air conditioning unit.

The England captain blushed in response. "I don't know," he mumbled, his eyes flickering over the whole of Gareth's body, from his eyes to his chest to his crotch, and back up to his eyes again. And there was that bloody  _shyness_ of Kane's and, before the player had even glanced away from him, nervously, to ease the tension, Southgate was already well on his way towards a full-blown hard-on.

He ran his hands over a firm and beautiful torso, fingers roaming the star's rippling six-pack, which seemed ever more toned with every passing day.

Another night in another hotel room; another liaison with Harry and another occasion for Harry to bashfully flutter his eyelashes and pretend that he doesn't know about the birds and the bees and that he's never had sex with a man before, even though he manages to so easily make Gareth climax _night_ after _night_. This hotel room, like all of them before - in _this_ country especially - was unrivalled in luxury and had beautiful furnishings in spades, but the only gorgeous object Gareth could see was standing in front of him - a mountain of British beauty, with a _perfect_ chest and thighs as thick as tree trunks. He nearly swooned like a teenage girl at the thought of it.

Harry may have been bare-chested, but his manager was _fully_ dressed. The younger man started to play with his striped tie, loosening it for what was surely soon to come.

"You didn't have to wear all of this for _me_ ," Kane said, referencing Southgate's suit and the now infamous waistcoat which hugged his figure nicely, the purple shiny material of the reverse glistening in what little light there was between the mood lighting in the room and the city lights below - the obverse slightly open, the garment practically begging to be shrugged off and discarded.

"Always like to look my best," the older man stated, "Especially for my boys."

Harry shot him a look.

"Boy," came the correction. "My _special_ boy."

A smile quickly replaces that look, "The effort never goes unnoticed - not with the press, anyway." Kane liked to  _try_ to flirt with Gareth, but the shyness would  _genuinely_  take a hold of him on occasion, even if he did sometimes _sort-of_ put it on. He stared at the floor, unable to meet with his gaze. "I gather you're a fashion icon now."

Gareth snorted with laughter - he was a modest, ordinary man and all of this fashion nonsense was a bit out of his comfort zone. But, hey, if the sales of waistcoats really had risen so much then maybe there _was_ a connection, even if it seemed crazy to _him_.

"A bit-- bit of a sex symbol," Harry added, slightly stammering. Oh, he _knew_ how to wrap himself round the manager's little finger, alright. He clearly wasn't teacher's pet for nothing.

"And what do _you_ think?" asked Southgate, beginning to remove his attire, hanging his suit jacket on the back of the door and unbuttoning his waistcoat, tossing it gently onto the bed.

"I think I'd have to _agree_ ," Kane smirked, holding the waistcoat up to his lips for a single kiss before returning it to the bed. Harry had a playful twinkle in his eye when he urged Gareth to show him _why_ the public thought he was a sex symbol, and just how much he was _dying_ to find out the _reason_. He now though, rather forcefully, and much to Gareth's surprise, shoved the England manager back into the tangle of sheets.

Southgate stumbled against the base of the divan and found himself suddenly atop the plush velvet duvet, warm and fuzzy to the touch - like the feeling now developing in his stomach... and his _groin_. Flat on his back, he soon recovered and sat up on the edge of the bed with Kane towering above him. Breathless, gasping slightly and needy for his young captain to join him in the covers, he pretended to chastise him, "I'll have _none_ of that in my team, Harry. No cheating, no diving and _no_ rough and tumble. A gentleman _doesn't_ push and shove."

"Sorry boss... I was only joshing," Harry apologised, in a bid for his forgiveness. "Are you going to... _discipline_ me?"

The darker haired man made out as though he was thinking about it for a second. "We'll have to _see_." He scuttled backwards across the bed until he was at the top, nestled within the pillows. With one curled finger, he beckoned for Harry to join him. "Come here," he said, his tone lower, inviting and altogether more sexy. And Harry did as he was _told_.

"I want you in training at 6am the first opportunity we're back in England," Southgate lectured him. "And I don't want you to let up for a single second. I won't be satisfied until you're playing like Pele."

"Yes boss."

"Oh... and there is the little matter of you dealing with _this_... if you can," he hissed, unzipping the fly of his suit trousers and nodding towards the opening.

Harry ran a tongue over his lips, admiring the sight of his friend and teacher sprawled out on the bed, now exposed and desperate for his affections. He quickly followed his lead, stripping himself of those pesky boxer shorts once and for all and casting them aside so that they could hinder him no further. The muscular lad was now completely naked. His hard cock was now out in the open and _unrestricted_ by the underwear, proudly pointing outwards - a tempting proposition for Gareth without doubt.

He crawled towards the older man like a panther, prowling over the covers and positioning himself over Southgate's prostrate frame, their erections perfectly aligned. He took Gareth's cock into his hand as he watched Gareth take a hold of his. They were masturbating one another quite vigorously; grabbing impatiently at one another's bodies and trying to get at one another's necks with their hungry mouths. It was frantic and somebody had to slow down the pace. The more mature of the two was the one to do so, delicately cupping the back of Harry's head - fingers intertwined with blonde hair - to bring the player in for a long and slow kiss, the pair of them to then relax into a rhythm that was far more steady.

" _Boss_..." Harry croaked as Southgate's tongue slipped from his mouth. " _Mmm_..."

There was a moment of silence between them and their open eyes met for the first time, _really_ , since they had gotten into bed and started making love to each other.

"I'll have to give you back at the beginning of the football season," Gareth rued.

"No..." he moaned between kisses and caresses. "You can't," he said, with sorrow, knowing that this would be their last night in Russia together. "I don't want to leave you."

"It won't be long," came the reassurance. "We'll be together again soon." He gazed into Harry's forlorn expression; he stared into pupils dilated, aroused and yet brimming with apprehension; he seemingly burrowed into the star's soul, suddenly so crestfallen and unsure. Sometimes he forgot how young and inexperienced Kane was and that, _perhaps_ , the boy had never _truly_ experienced such a heartbreak before. He smiled at him, soothingly, fingernails gently grazing and tickling the skin, evoking a little grin from the downhearted footballer.

"I'll tell you something though," Gareth went on. "Mauricio could _never_ appreciate you the way that I do."

"Yeah?" Kane whispered, buoyed by Southgate's confession. In response to his kind and loving words, he picked up the pace and began wanking the England manager much more fervently - and encouraged his partner to do the same to him. Far closer to orgasm than he, himself, had realised, the number 9 suddenly began to shiver and shake. And, without much of a warning - other than stuttered curses - he came in several trembling waves over his mentor's hand, covering the sheets and much of his suit.

Still grinding into him, screaming out for contact, Harry groaned and growled into his ear, still working Gareth's dick furiously with his right hand, "But I'll _always_ answer to _you_ , above anyone else... _boss_ ..." It was all too much for the older man to take. Soon he _too_ was spilling come all over his lover's fingers, dripping down along his fist and onto the bed.

 _"Always?"_ Southgate panted, raggedly, in post-coital dizziness.

" _Always_ ," Kane answered and smiled at him, licking the still-warm seed which had ran down the back of his hand, "... _Boss_."


End file.
